The Sun Is But A Morning Star
by Art Is Dead
Summary: Your name is Dirk Strider and you already despise anything and everything about senior year.
1. Chapter 1

Dirk squinted anxiously at his reflection in the mirror. The image of an attractive, charming young man squinted back him. His lengthy and dangerously close to being feminine eyelashes complimented the orange hue of circular irises. Each one of those tiny hairs protecting his peculiar narrow orbs was of a blonde tone, proving that his voluminous head of hair was all natural. His skin was abnormally pale for the region but he could do nothing for it: it was a condition. An epidemic of brownish freckles plagued the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks, but that was all he had to show for how much sunlight his skin would take in each day. Dark bags lined the bottom lids of what would normally be bright, energetic and young eyes. The imperfections discouraged those comely orbs, but alas he had a solution: his signature shades. Sleep seemed like a frivolous thing to him. He only did so when absolutely necessary. That, and of course during school.

School.

It was the first day of senior year. For him, however, it felt just like any other day. He gritted his teeth at the citrus-eyed freak in front of him and slipped his triangular glasses over ugly leers. Those infectious hues were the exact reason he preferred to look at his life through a lens. Well, that and his brother.

It was a genuine shock to him that his skin had not grown accustomed to the lengthy showers he would take on a daily basis. Though he went through the same process each day, his fingers would still prune nevertheless. Even then his fingerprints were altered, regardless of him being out of the stream of water for at least a half an hour, if not more by then. He assumed he would probably be late getting to school. Not that he cared all too much; he had no first period. There had been a defect with his scheduling, as he was required to make up a credit, and he was expected to meet with a counselor on the issue to get things regulated. They were surely anticipating his arrival. He, on the other hand, had bigger things to worry about. Such as if he should bring an extra set of batteries for his camera, or if he should just leave well enough alone and preserve what battery life he had. He quickly decided it was best to bring an extra set, as it was his duty to thoroughly tick off each and every last one of his new teachers by taking a snapshot every few seconds. What kind of Strider would he be if he didn't establish his authority right off the bat? An awful one, that's what.

He had always loathed school. Not only was he surrounded by mindless, ignorant pricks in every direction, but those same pricks did all they could to expose his deepest and most sensitive flaws. The world was a cruel place, he wagered. Thankfully he had a prized heirloom - though it wasn't really an heirloom, he called it that for sentimentality. And irony, of course. Even if it was just a vintage single-lens reflects camera, Dave would be disappointed if he titled it anything else. He also had a collection of scars, each one with a story behind it. Though the presence of scars was more commonly portrayed as a negative thing, he viewed each one of them as an appreciated lesson.

Maybe that was why everyone thought he was such a freak. He was not afraid to show them, after all. The only time he had managed to escape those judging leers and thousand questions is the few days after he was first left alone. Everyone seemed to be giving him his space for a while; those who voiced their negative opinion on him openly, whether it be through words or physically, and those who silently admired his collected personality and no-nonsense smarmy attitude. They had all learned from rumors, and it was only this one time that he was thankful that rumors existed. Even if he was stoic on the outside, he knew there was no way in which he would be able to admit what happened aloud. Not yet, at least.

"Let's get this fuckin' irony train moving Strider. You got places to be, middle-aged women to piss off. You're the ultimate conductor of this beastly fucker. All aboard," he said to his mirrored self, slicking his fringe in place for the thousandth time. He took a moment to fluff his lion-like mane and gave himself a subtle wink, even if the shadow from his glasses hid the action.

There would never be anyone he hated more than himself.

"Next stop; scheduling counselor. Fweet fweet."

Of course he had a Texan twang to his words, but he was an expert at hiding it. The only person he had ever met face-to-face that did not have the same drawl as every other insufferable drone to the population was one of his best friends, Jane. She had moved to Texas in freshman year from Washington state, and had thankfully avoided picking up the repulsive tone of the people she was surrounded by. Because of this, he could easily listen to her for hours on end. People had often suspected them of dating, but they would each be quick to deny it. Roxy was more in to him anyways, and he preferred the other team. Not that he ever had any luck with the gender he favored; the only guy he had ever dated found even the slightest of touches to be absolutely obscene. Dirk was not a pushy guy, but he assumed that after being with someone for so long he would at least allow a _hug _without screeching about how bold the Strider was for doing so in public.

Some people could be so detestable.

He regarded his dirty kitchen with a subtle wince; it was painful for him to see such messes that did not exist in his room, but he really had to leave at that point. Making a mental note to tidy up later on, he shoved his feet in to a pair of tennis shoes and slung a messenger bag over his shoulder. The high school was only a few blocks away. He decided to walk that morning, since the air was so pleasant. Normally it would be sticky and hard to breathe, so he appreciated even the smallest of breezes and fair atmospheres.

The leaves on the trees were of vibrant oranges, brilliant yellows, and a few unsightly browns. One particular tree looked quite promising to him - he approached it cautiously as if it were a snoozing beast, regarded the angle and snapped a few still shots before continuing down the sidewalk.

He was trying to get more in to photographing nature. Every picture he took, or at least the ones that came out well, he drew. With a yearning to expand his horizons, he was seeking a change of scenery. Evidently that scenery was scenery itself.

When he reached a point where it was necessary to cross a busy road, he failed to even regard if it was safe to go or not. Apparently it had not been, because when he started across the pavement in front a collection of cars, each one of them honked noisily at him. He simply smirked, made a motion with his arm as if he were pulling the horn of a train, and called out, "toot toot motherfuckers. Make way for this irony train, it ain't sparing anybody who gets in its way."

That building which he so regarded with such resentment was just another block away. He reached in to his pocket and pulled out a pair of large headphones. Careful not to damage the flawless image of his hair, he slipped them over his ears and unlocked his iPod. In seconds he was enjoying one of his brother's older tracks, mouthing the words as he attempted to keep up with the firing lyrics. He concluded for probably the _millionth _time that he would never be as cool as Dave Strider was.

Was.

Clenching his jaw, Dirk quickened his pace. The downside to calm days like this was they made him think. When he thought, he always seemed to drive himself in to a hole. For the first time in his life, that looming establishment looked promising. He switched the song, quietly and calmly listening to a classic tune.

'Sburb High' a sign on the freshly cut lawn of campus read. It was a peculiar name and most students had a great deal of trouble pronouncing it correctly, but it was within close enough proximity of Dirk's apartment building that he could not resist attending the place. Even if it was absolutely nerve-wracking.

The halls were basically bare, except for the occasional freshman who had absolutely no clue where they were supposed to be. One or two of them would ask where a certain class was, and he would pretend to ignore them and continue to his destination.

"Hey. Sorry for being late. I'm here," he called in to the small office space of the woman he was scheduled to meet with. She peered up from her computer over thick frames, eyeing his appearance with pursed red lips. He was wearing a pair of tight, form-fitting black pants and a striped shirt of multi-toned oranges. A lanyard dangled from his back pocket which was decorated with a colorful cartoon pony who sported a radiant rainbow mane.

"Dirk Strider?" she queried. It kind of sounded less than a question and more like a command for him to get his lanky ass in there and plop down in an uncomfortable chair, but it was a question nonetheless. He entered the minuscule office, but leaned up against the wall with his hands shoved in his front pockets rather than taking a seat. She raised an eyebrow in question at him, and he simply nodded his head as if to acknowledge her presence halfheartedly.

"The one and only. Care for an autograph? Or are we gonna get this show on the road?" He leaned his head back against the wall and shut his eyes calmly.

"Care to remove your glasses young man?" she snapped, obviously annoyed with his sassy attitude.

"No can do ma'am."

"Why not?"

"I don't have any eyes," he said stoically, though he was inwardly cackling like a hyena.

"If you're going to be short with me, you can leave."

"All right, all right. I've got a note. See?" he said, digging in his pocket to retrieve a letter of permission for him to keep his signature shades on. The parchment landed on her desk right in front of her. She unfolded it and read it closely, only to sigh at its genuine truth and set it back down.

"It has come to my attention that you have no first hour."

"Really? I thought I was just dropping by for a quick chat."

She audibly groaned. He inwardly high-fived himself.

"You're required to make up a credit as well. Fortunately there were a few spaces left in Mrs. Condesce's first hour. Have you heard of her?"

"She's the cooking teacher right?" he played along with her questions, though he knew full-well he was right.

"That's right. So you'll be taking her class first period. Now run along."

He snatched up the note, saluted her with an enigmatic and hardly noticeable smirk, and exited the suffocatingly small work space.

"Your name is Dirk Strider and you already despise anything and everything about senior year," he grumbled to himself, finding it safe enough to curl his nose and scowl as if he had just taken a whiff of an unpleasantly pungent smell. He was alone in the hallway, after all.

Always careful to conceal emotion.

That's what Dave taught him.

_Dave's gone._

"Shut up," he growled aloud, immediately clamping his mouth shut and wiping his face of emotion.

"-nd if you do anything out of turn, you will be out my classroom. I mean i- ...who are you?" a tall beast of a woman with black hair cascading down her back and clothes of the same color addressed Dirk as he entered the room. He realized instantaneously that she was annoyed with him from the get-go, and so he decided to test his fate; with no words of a response, he lifted his camera from its dangling position around his neck, angled it well enough, and snapped a photo of her. She growled. He stifled a chuckle, only omitting a posh sort of 'pff'.

"Dirk Strider. I'm in your class. Any place for me to sit?"

"You can plant yourself right here," she motioned to a seat in the very front row next to- oh, that was a plus. He strolled over to his seat, thankful that he was alone at the two-person table. "Now, any more distractions Mr. High and Princely? Or can I continue to teach my _class?_" she hissed. He tilted his chin upward, raising a brow defiantly at her angered expression.

She rose her snout to the sky and turned on the balls of her feet to deliberately speak to the entirety of the class excluding him. He shrugged, leaning his head forward until it rested comfortably against his folded arms.

_Time to sleep_

Slumber came quicker than he expected. His abnormally colored eyes fluttered to a gentle close, and almost immediately he sprung up in his seat to see the same room he had been in moments before, except this with a mild blue overlay. Looking down he raised his brow at a sleeping identical twin and crawled atop the desk, smugly listening to the powerful words of his first period teacher.

A new year, and the same method of learning.

Lucid dreaming could be so effective at times.


	2. Chapter 2

The next few hours of the school day were just the same as the first; Dirk would make a theatrical appearance, thoroughly piss off his teacher, and faceplant in to his desk so that he could sleep as well as learn all in the same time frame. It was almost expected of him by then, or at least from his fellow students. Occasionally someone would try and talk to him, and he would throw a few smarmy remarks their way before they caught the drift and left him be. Most importantly, however, every moment he was awake he had been photographing everything. Even the most trivial objects were captured in a standstill that he would cherish for years to come.

Lunch was a relief. Even if he casually strolled past the lines of anxious and hungry people, sitting down at a table with nothing but his own bubbling snark, it still felt nice to avoid adult authority for even a short period of time. Leaning back in his seat, he planted his crossed feet on the tabletop and glanced over the top of his shades at the populated cafeteria. On the outside it would appear as just nonchalant people-watching, but he was looking for someone in particular.

And she made her appearance known, too.

"Diiiiirrrrkkkk!" a pair of hot pink lips called out. He smirked at the sound of her voice, letting his head roll over the back of his seat and his flawless hair cascade toward the floor. She stared down at him, a bubbly grin on her face. "Hey babe!" her ecstatic voice exclaimed as she planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Yo Roxy. Sit yourself down next to this embodiment of chill as fuck. I could use someone who isn't an ignorant dickhole to spend time with."

"If you inserst - er, insist," she stifled back a hiccup and pulled out a chair, delicately taking a seat. Black tights hugged her thin legs, and a tight pink skirt just barely reached her knees. She wore a black shirt which fell past her shoulders, as well as a pink tanktop underneath that matched her skirt in hue. Her lips and eyes mirrored this color as well, but she was far too strong to hide behind tinted glasses.

Far stronger than him.

"Jesus fucking christ Lalonde, it's only the first day of school."

"Allllllll the more reashurn - reason - to start sippin' if you ask me. Have you _seen _the idiots who go here? Looooor-_dy _- hic - I'm sur...surpriced. Fuck. Surprised you're not right 'ere with me, what with how much you absoul. Absolutely despise people here."

"You've got me there," he muttered, raking his fingers through a platinum blonde fringe as if to put it back in place. Not that is was out of place at all, but he relied a great deal on his appearance and could not risk looking any less than his best at any point. Snatching a napkin from Roxy's tray, he wiped her pink kiss off of his face and dispatched the crumpled tissue to her general area once more.

"Heeeyyy," she dragged out the whiny complaint with all intention to get on his nerves. Evidently she succeeded, because he clenched his jaw and snarled as if from a headache. "What's the deer - shit, deal - mister high and flighty Strider. Mighty. You don't appreciate smooches from Ro-lal?"

"Ro-lal can smooch my ass," his brow - which was a shade or two darker than his hair - arched in a playful way, "There's no way I'm walking around all day with lipstick on my face. No matter how much I love you."

"Oh you're juss sayin' that. You don't _love _me."

"I don't have to be straight to love you. You're my best friend, I'll be fucked if I'm lying when I say I love you."

"Yeaaaa right."

"Oh, is that a test?" his lip curled just enough to expose a row of straight, sparkling white teeth. He had only been without the burden of braces for about a year, and yet it appeared as though his perfectly aligned pearls were as natural as the coquetry look to his smirk really was.

"I swerve - pff," she nearly choked on a bite of salad, "swerve. Did you fuckin' hear that? Wow. I swear to god, if you do anythong - holy shit - any_thing _stupid I wi-" in her fits of laughter she had failed to notice that he had stood on his chair to address the entire lunchroom. However, now that she had, she was clawing at his ankles and pleading that he get down.

"Sburb High, this is my formal announcement that I, Dirk Strider," he ignored her incessant exclamations and instead placed a gentle hand atop her head. She blushed a shade darker than the alcohol allowed and pouted defiantly. "Love my best friend, Roxy Lalonde."

"Diiiiiccckkkk - Dirk - stooop!" she tugged at his pant leg. It hardly budged.

He finished his confession by announcing to all the staring, curious eyes of his peers that they, "Carry on. And stop looking like a bunch of lost fuckin' puppies, you're making my heart melt," quite sarcastically. As if they were a pack of mindless drones they listened and fulfilled his wish instantaneously, no questions asked. For a moment he reveled in his power, but a hand tugging at his leg drew him back in to reality.

Right. He was powerless.

"Did you literally say any_thong, _Roxy?" he said with a shake of his head after he finally sat back down, this time keeping his feet on the floor, "because wow that is beyond hilarious."

"Ffff-" she flapped her hand as if to wave the comment away, all the while trying desperately not to snort from laughter, "I did. That's Ro-lal for you, hil-AIR-uthee extraordinaire."

"Hey, does Jane have second lunch or something? I haven't seen her all day," Dirk suddenly said, his citrus colored eyes grazing the lunchroom. Before Roxy had a chance to answer he lifted up his camera, snapped a few shots of the crowd, and quickly stole a photo of her. By the angle and the direction of her gaze, she could have been mistaken for a model.

"Give a girl some wanring - awarenin - ...warning. I wasn't ready for a picture!" she exclaimed, shoving his shoulder playfully. Her nails matched the pink she pulled off so well everywhere else.

"You sure?" he accused while showing her the photograph, to which she smiled quite brightly at.

"I'm juss photogenic. Anyways, I guess she does. Either that, or she's too busy with her foreign excharge - exchange student."

"Woah wait backtrack for a second there, say what?"

"She didn' tell you? She singed...signed up for that program. And the FES she got is a tooooottalll hottie. Seems like the kinda guy you'd be intre...intere...you'd like. Kinda dorky though if you ask me."

"Nah, I don't really fall for the dorky kind of guys. I've got to keep my rep up, you know?"

"Oh pleassseee you're one of the hugest dorks everr!" Roxy giggled, taking a sip of her orange juice before Dirk snatched it in to his grip and downed the rest. She pouted at him. He smiled back. "I've seen your room. Like...multiple times."

"Nobody has to know that," he said while attempting to spin the carton he had just sucked down all the contents of on the tip of his finger. It nearly fell to the floor, but he reached down and caught it, trying once more to balance the object with little success.

"So you should talk to him! At least get all frond...friendly with him. He'll be with Janey all year, so you'll have to talk to him _eventually_."

"Maybe," Dirk mumbled. He was confident in the fact that it was unlikely he would fall for anyone who fell under the category of 'dork', and yet...Roxy was hardly ever wrong when it came to matters of the heart. She may have appeared to by whimsical on the surface, but she in fact was a highly intelligent individual and this was not hard at all to realize in one-on-one conversations with her.

"Just try, will you? Mister social flutterby."

"Butterfly."

"That's what I said. You've seemed super down in the dumps lately," she reached over and poked his nose. He wiggled it appropriately and scoffed. "I think you could use some super sweet manlove in your life about now. You never know, you might like each other."

Dirk pinched his lips together, dropping his eyes to the ground.

_Nobody will ever like you._

Their thoughts were interrupted by the cacophonous ring of a bell in their ear. Dirk snatched up Roxy's tray for her and offered his free hand down. She took it in to her own small palm and stood.

"Kill me now," he grumbled.

"Cheer up grumpy pants," she insisted while swinging their hands between them, using her other hand to jab his side, "how about I come over after school? I can beat your butt in Tekken or something."

"Yea right," he chuckled once, tossing her garbage in to a can at the front of the cafeteria, only to whip around and snap a shot of the now empty room. She rolled her eyes at him but smiled genuinely anyways. "You're on," he said, playfully shoving her as they parted ways. She waved at him, and he acknowledged her by capturing the moment in a standstill.

A few more hours and this would all be over.


	3. Chapter 3

Final period was always Dirk's favorite. For the most part it was due to the simple fact that he would actually be _leaving _in an hour, but this year? Things were different. Much different. It took all of his willpower not to start skipping down the hallway with pure excitement. That would have been super embarrassing.

The lights were always dimmer in this back hallway. It seemed abandoned, along with the creativity that was supposed to be brought to it in the happy form of smiling students. However, there was one person who insisted on returning, and he was currently pulling open the door to his favorite classroom.

She did not even wait for him to breathe before she struck a pose. Naturally, he photographed it instantly. The other students stared, eyebrows raised in mild bemusement.

"Kanaya, you never cease to amaze me," his calm, steady-toned voice said after they had shared a warm embrace. She waved her finger as if to scold him, though the smirk on her face screamed that it was all play. "That is Ms. Maryam to you, student."

He rolled his eyes, patted her on the shoulder, and gladly took a seat. The late bell rang loudly; it was always much more profound in this room. Everyone seemed to flinch at the sound of it. That is everyone save for Dirk and the well-dressed, eloquent female who seemed not a day over twenty years old and yet still proudly clung to her teaching certificate. They were far too used to the ear-splitting noise, and were entirely deadpan through the whole thing.

When the echoing stopped, she gracefully took her stance in front of the small amount of students in the class and announced, "Hello class. I am Ms. Maryam, though I am sure you all know this already since you have had my class before. I welcome you to Advanced Drawing and Painting."

The telltale click of a camera finished her sentence. Some students turned their heads to look at Dirk, who wore a smug grin on his face. Others ignored it, already knowing his sneaky ways.

_Maybe, _Dirk wondered as he quietly - and for the first time that day, consciously - listened, _this year won't be so bad. _

* * *

"Diiiirrrrkkk, open upppp!" Roxy whined, pounding on a familiar apartment door furiously for at least the fifth time. Dirk had been in the shower for the past hour and a half, futilely attempting to wash away the nagging annoyance of the first day of school. It admittedly had not gone too terribly bad, but nevertheless it was _school _and school meant _people _and well, he was quite sure that he had been grasping at the title of a misanthrope for quite some time. She had only been outside his door for a total of ten minutes, but she was still growing impatient.

At the sound of his best friend's voice, Dirk frantically wrapped a towel around his waist and bolted for the door. He had completely forgotten that they had planned for her to come over, and the guilt showed on his face when he threw open the barrier to his threshold and found a pouting face.

It was so easy to show emotion around her.

"Holy shit Roxy I am so sor-"

"Woawah there mister do you alwers - ways - open your door with intents to woo your gueshits - pff," she snorted, "guests with your hot bod?"

He glanced down at his half-bare essence. Always one with a lean frame, his waist was small enough to make some women jealous, but he had a strong upper body with a reasonable amount of muscle around his bone. A few droplets of water gleamed on his toned chest. Yes, his body was nice, but it was not uncommonly gorgeous either. At least in his eyes.

"Just get your sassy ass in here," said Dirk as he casually stepped out of her way. She ruffled his damp hair, though she had to stand on her toes to do so, and strolled inside.

His apartment was not much. It really could not be; he had no use for a large, elaborate residency when he was the only one living there. It was tidy now that he had cleaned up the kitchen area, and surprisingly quaint for the home of a rowdy teenager. Or at least on the surface it had been. His bedroom was a whole different story. Not only had it been covered in posters of various things he enjoyed, but it was covered in spare parts and sketches. Regardless, the simplicity of his apartment did not mean he could not furnish it with expensive whatnots; his brother had left him a great deal of money. More than he needed, definitely. However, he was saving it for something bigger. Though he was not sure what that was yet, but regardless, he felt responsible for taking care of the money he was left.

Roxy knew his apartment like the back of her hand. She did not even need an invitation to "make herself at home", strolled right up to Dirk's fridge, snatched a can of Orange Crush and poured it in to a glass. He raised a brow at her in amusement, half wishing she would not do what he knew she would; reaching in to her hot pink purse, she pulled out a small bottle of vodka and poured a generous dose in to the bubbling, caffeinated drink. He rolled his eyes and started down the hall toward his bedroom. She would set up in his absence, but at this point he was in dire need of some clothes.

His floor was covered in multiple caps and a large amount of vibrantly colored puppets. He regarded them with a respectful nod, followed by his posters, and finally the most important object - though it pained him to even call it an object - to him; Lil Cal. They shared a wordless fist bump and he pulled open the door to his closet, which was built in to his right wall. Snatching up a black wifebeater and a pair of orange sweatpants. Those went on over a pair of white boxers, followed by the simple top. Nothing too extravagant - in fact, his ensemble was quite the opposite - but he did not need to worry about his appearance when around Roxy.

"You reedy - ready to get your ass beeeaaatt?" Roxy said while waving a Playstation controller in Dirk's face. He scowled, eyeing the device with narrow eyes. His shades were folded up on the desk in his room - Roxy already knew of his peculiar eye color, and much to his dismay and puzzlement actually enjoyed them.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Whaaaa- hic - aat?"

"I get the shitty controller?"

"You schnoz - pff, snooze - you lose mister!"

It took a great deal of self control for Dirk to not drop to the floor and start hysterically laughing. No matter how comfortable he was around her, as long as he was in his brother's apartment, he would respect him. And, as always, their form of respect meant maintaining the best pokerface he could achieve.

He felt awful every time his emotions overtook him, and he would curl up in that empty bedroom and let the tears flow, chanting apologies until it did not even sound like english anymore.

He reached for the controller, rolling his eyes when a triumphant smirk was shot his way.

"5?" he queried aloud and rhetorically, staring at the already booted screen. That was one thing he was not ashamed of buying; large, flat screen televisions. There was one hanging in his bedroom, and an even larger one in the main room. Perhaps he was okay with spending money on them since he would usually use them to watch his brother's movies. "Good choice Ro-lal."

"Are you syain you were doubtin me?"

"Hell no."


	4. Chapter 4

They were well in to their third battle. Hours had passed already, and the Texan sun was sinking in the sky, allowing room in the sky for the twinkling blue moon. Cans of variating caffeinated drinks were strewn across the floor, accompanied by two competitive gamers and a plethora of wrappers. An empty pizza box stood tall atop the cluttered mess, victorious and proud. Right now, as was common with their long sessions of Tekken, their health bars were tied. One would take a hit, and the other would receive an equal one not long after. Nobody had an advantage over the other. This battle was a tiebreaker - no, this war. They had even resorted to physical violence in the real world. Dirk would occasionally shove Roxy's shoulder, successfully knocking her off guard before she had done the same to him. She would whine about how it was unfair to do that, and enact her revenge by delivering a nearly fatal blow to his character. This theatrical, melodramatic show of events was nearly habitual of the two of them.

If someone did not die soon, they would be at this all night.

Only a small amount of each of their health was left.

A familiar ringtone knocked Dirk off guard. He fished for his cellphone, quite regrettably, as Roxy delivered the final blow to his character. He cursed aloud as he answered the call, and the shocked voice of a girl his age returned the greeting with a sheepish, "Golly..."

"Ah, sorry Jane," he mumbled in to the phone, eyeing Roxy's victory dance with daggers, "I just got my ass royally handed to me."

"Sounds intense. Should I call back later?" she asked. A voice was heard in the background, though it was unfamiliar to Dirk.

"Nah, it's perfect timing. We can plot Roxy's death now," he said with a snort. The petite blonde in question pouted at him, her brows furrowing.

"He's juss mad 'cause I beat him," she called loudly near his ear. Her voice sounded far more sober than it had hours ago, but that did not make it pleasant when she was shouting right by his face. He winced, a thin brow twitching angrily.

"Fuck off Ro-lal, I'll get you next time."

"I didn't cause all this, did I?" Jane muttered curiously.

"A little. It's alright though, she'll get what's coming to her," the Strider snapped as a tongue pushed past hot pink lips, mocking him. He grabbed the muscle with his fingertips and yanked - gently. She mewled, baring her pearly white teeth at him. He always wondered how she could keep them so clean looking with how much alcohol she drank, but he dubbed it the magic of being a Lalonde and dismissed the subject. "Yo Crocker, who am I hearing in the background there? Unless your dad got a funky accent over the past few days and I didn't know."

Jane giggled bashfully for a moment or two. "That's Jake."

"Don't tell me you got yourself a hot piece of British ass and you didn't tell big brother Strider. Tsk, tsk."

"Wh-what?!" she exclaimed. He could practically hear her blushing through the phone. "N-no way! Haha. You know I'd never date anyone without your permission, Dirk," she chuckled cheerily a few times, obviously trying to wipe away her embarrassment. He scoffed humorously, rolling his peculiar eyes.

"Oooh, Janey~" Roxy purred in to the mouthpiece. Dirk attempted to push her away with his foot unsuccessfully, "Do you have the hots for mister FES?"

Dirk turned on speakerphone, and by doing so he had admitted his defeat.

"I do not!" Crocker insisted.

"Oh. My. God. Janey, you totally do!"

"You're making it pretty damn obvious Crocker."

Jane's voice had dropped in volume significantly, "I do not like him like that! I'm just his host house for the year, nothing more!"

"Janeyy, you totalllyyyy want him don't you."

"My little Jane is growing upflflhlf," Dirk struggled against a pale palm, which was currently covering the entirety of his mouth. He shot Lalonde a lethal stare and her hot pink eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"Ewwww!" she screeched, retracting her hand, "You did not just lick me."

"I totally did," Dirk huffed triumphantly.

"Diiirk!"

"Dirk, that's gross," Jane piped in.

"Tell that to her hand. Yuck."

"Anyways you two, it looks like I've got to go. He's getting antsy again. I swear, this guy is like a puppy sometimes."

"Cute," Dirk retorted sarcastically, "Are you house training him too?"

"Shut up," she snapped back, following it by a genuine giggle, "Alright. Well, I just wanted to say hi. I missed you at school today!"

"Aw, you're adorable."

"Says you," she remarked, "I'll see you later! Have fun with your loss!"

"Oh you litt-" his screen lit up, displaying that the call had been ended.

"Could you be any more sissy - pff, oh my fuckin' god. Wow. Wow, Roxy. Nice one home girl. Sassy?" Lalonde asked after Dirk shoved his cell back into his pocket and flicked off the screen which was quite proudly displaying his eminent failure. He then - quite ostentatiously - turned off the Playstation and flung himself onto the couch. She stood from her spot on the floor and plopped herself directly on his stomach. He let out a mocking 'oof', smirking as she glared at him. "Oh hell no assbaka I know you did not just call me sassy. I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've be- oh who the fuck am I kidding the only person that's sassier in this world than me is your mom."

"What the fuck did you just say about my mom, you little bitch? I'll have you know I-"

"Shh," he sat up and pressed his finger to her lips. She gnawed at his skin.

"Speakin' of my mom, she's probably got her granny panties in a knot 'bout now. I gotta dip out soon."

"Oh rad, I can finally masturbate to the image I have in my head now of your mom in granny panties. Sweet."

"You know you would totallllyyyyy dig my mom in granny panties."

"Just about as much as I dig graves for a living."

"Exactly."

Roxy peeled herself out of Dirk's lap, which was admittedly quite difficult for her to do since she was perfectly comfortable there, and made her way toward the door of his apartment. He followed close behind her, and grabbed at the knob before she had a chance to. Feeling his body heat at her back, she turned around and enveloped him in a surprise embrace. He peered down at her frail body, bottom lip jutting forward in contemplation.

"Cheer up, Mr. Grumpypants. Okay? You're like, totally lame when you're all...not happy."

"I'll try," he mumbled, gingerly returning the hug before he rushed her out of the doorway, "You need to get home. I don't want an angry call from my not-aunt while I'm trying to whack off to that stupendous mental image."

"'lright, enough with that joke. You're giving me the creeps."

"You started it."

"But now I'm imaginin' it and it's like ewww."

"I know the perfect solution," he quirked his brows up and sliced an award-winning smirk on to his face, "Imagine her in a thong."

"Oh my fuckin' god I think I'm gonna have to kill you Dirk Strider."

Before she could rush in once more and claw at his throat, he had already slammed the door shut and was going through his series of locks. She clawed at the barrier with her hot pink nails and whimpered. He leaned toward the threshold and murmured, "You're in the doghouse now. Run along with your tail between your legs like a good pup."

"Woof."

"Feisty."

He heard her swift footfalls begin to track down the hall and spun around on the balls of his feet, assessing the damage which had been done to his apartment during their lengthy battles and periods of extreme cases of the munchies. It was quite messy, he would confess, but nothing a little tidying could not fix.

Without a care in the world as to how his neighbors felt, Dirk hastily cranked up his sound system and put in a mix CD of his favorite songs. The first few were some of his brothers. He skipped through them, swallowing down his guilt. Normally it would be absolutely scandalous for him to flick through them, but today he was not quite sure he could listen to them without breaking more than a few promises he made to the artist. Before he began his cleaning, he took a few snapshots of the mess. He had a lot of drawing ahead of him, that was for sure.

The sun had completely said its goodbyes by then. Dirk hummed the music blaring through his speakers, eventually rising to a low mumble, until he was finally singing aloud. He had a nice voice. In fact, it was quite soothing. Mellow, calm. It fit his personality flawlessly. It was quite a shame that he was not fond of his singing voice himself, and kept it quite hidden. The - now rare - occasion where he would get himself into a rap battle, that was the only time where he would spew anything lyrical from his mouth in public. In fact, the only person who knew of his eloquent ability was Roxy, who had caught him on more than one case during countless sleepovers while he was in the shower.

The hours passed quicker than he had expected them to. Taking his sweet time to clean, what would have been a twenty minute clean up for someone in a rush morphed into a two hour thorough sweep of the main room. He was quite sure that if he lived in a cartoon, it would be sparkling. With a nod of his head, as if to thank the room for cooperating with him, he snapped a few quick shots and trudged toward his bedroom. It was pushing midnight, and he had no intent on sleeping any time soon. The big question was, what was he supposed to do in his free time? The internet, though in all its glorious wondrousness, was not too appealing at the moment. Other than that, all he really had to entertain himself was tinkering with a few machines or...

It took a mustering of his courage, but he managed to exit his room and make his way down the hall. A door, rarely used and the room behind it rarely visited stood before him. Every time he made his way in there he felt as though he was disturbing some force he could not see. Like maybe his brother was standing over his shoulder, watching his every move, and silently flipping his hypothetical shit over Dirk being in his bedroom.

He was always fussy like that.

Nevertheless, the blonde had made his way through the door and into the abandoned bedroom. Everything was left just as it had been the day... Dirk sniffed the air. It was stagnant and vapid. Stale, and undisturbed. Something told him that it still smelled like the aftershave that his brother never really needed to use and the grinding gears of a creative brain, but he figured half or maybe even more of that was simply his imagination.

Careful, so as not to break the precarious glass that was the atmosphere, Dirk took a seat on the edge of the bed. Photos hung from clothes lines and pins going every which way around the room. A few posters hung on the otherwise bare walls.

"Yo," he started. It seemed as though the stale air had gotten to his lungs, since his voice seemed quite strained. "The first day of school was lame. As usual. I pissed off my cooking teacher though. It was pretty gold. Actually, come to think of it, I think I successfully pissed off all my teachers," Dirk said with a chuckle. Figuring his brother would be proud of him, his fist proudly bumped the air, "got my ass royally served to me on a platter in Tekken. And before you ask, yes, by Roxy."

_As if he could ask._

"I'll never live that down, huh? Getting beaten by a girl?"

_He can't tease you about it now._

"It was different with you."


	5. Chapter 5

Dirk must have spent hours in that room. A good portion of the time he spent silently wandering; carefully examining each little detail but staying cautious as not to disturb anything. The only sign that he had even been in there was the mildly disarrayed bedsheets. It always stumped him as to why Dave had even made his bed that day. He never had enough patience to do so before. Dirk theorized that it was because his brother knew of his fate, but... the thought made him cringe.

If he knew, then he could have helped.

He could have saved him.

A headache pierced through the tough bone of his skull, causing his vision to shatter around him. With his forehead in his hands, Dirk hissed away the pain. Momentarily, at least.

It was hard for him to speak. Not only was he essentially mumbling to the air around him- Dave would have scolded him for being a copier -but he also did not have much to talk about. Complain? Though the angst inside him boiled like any other teenager, Dirk would surely be frowned upon for being such a lightweight. Especially there.

"Good talk," his choked voice muttered, and he was even so bold as to listen for a deeper, calmer tone return the words to him.

It was early morning, and he had to prepare himself for another day at school. Though he had been a little tired, it was nothing a few naps during class could not fix. So, with heavy shoulders, he shuffled over a few cigarette butts and out of the room.

Arms stretched above his head, he shook himself awake effortlessly. With no time to take another shower, Dirk slipped a change of clothes on- a plain black tee, orange hoodie, and a pair of jeans- and made his way to the bathroom. With a few minutes spent carefully organizing his hair, he adjusted the pointed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply.

Another day at school.

'Cheer up', a bubbly and slurred voice resounded in his head.

"For you, I guess I can," the Strider whispered, the face of a bright young girl imprinted in his mind though he had been unsure of who he was addressing.

With an only slightly forced smile on his face, Dirk locked his apartment door and made his way down the narrow hallway toward the elevator.

* * *

Though it may not have smelled of new car anymore, Dirk's 2010 orange Camaro was a sight for sore eyes. He kept it in pristine condition from the moment it was presented to him on that chilly winter day a few years back. He of course could not drive it for the first year, but it was still nice to look at. Dave definitely held the thing against him, though. Pale lips upturned into a smirk as Dirk vaguely recalled his elder brother using the, "I bought you a camaro for your birthday, how many guardians are as badass as that? Wait, I'll tell you, none. I am the badassest. It is me", line more than a few times. It would certainly shut him up back then, that was for sure. He did not drive it regularly for sake of the precious ozone layer, and he also enjoyed being on his feet, but it was sure to make heads turn whenever he left the parking garage. Today was one of those days.

With the engine started, Dirk could practically feel each and every gear of the quality sports car grinding in his body. Every movement of the V6, 300-some horsepower engine seemed to be a movement of his own. Backing out of his space effortlessly, and with his messenger bag in the passenger seat keeping his camera company, he began the short trip to school.

Some would call the gleaming orange vehicle a bit feminine, and he would call them assholes.

People tended to stay generally out of his way, so he was at school in record time. Flaunting his walk _just_ a little, Dirk brushed past the jealous glares of his classmates and snapped a few surprise pictures of their reactions as well. He swore that no matter how many times people looked at his last name they would never guess he was related to the infamous movie- er, moive - director Dave Strider, and in a way he was content with that. Quite paradoxical to his ostentatious car, he tried to blend in as much as possible.

From the moment he walked in people were talking. Not that he minded, of course. Since he was a bit early, he pulled his iPod out of his bag and slipped his headphones over his ears. In a few seconds he was listening to a deafeningly beautiful melody: Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven. The deep, haunting chords of a sleek grand piano overtook his eardrums. He was lost in the blissful water it created instantaneously, and floated along gracefully to his first period. The room was empty of populous save for the teacher, who glared at him as he walked in over her pink, cat-like spectacles. She said something to him and he pointed at his iPod, indicating that not only did he not care about what she had to say, but he could not hear her if he did. She scowled at him and upturned her nose snobbishly. He smirked smugly at her and set his bag down on his table, following up the action by snapping a picture of her disgusted expression. She seemed particularly angered at this, and he nonchalantly pulled his headphones down until they were around his neck.

"I won't have ya takin' pictures of me in class, 'lright? If I catch you doin' it again you're gettin' suspended," she barked at him. His brow raised curiously: she definitely spoke a lot differently when teaching.

"Come at me br- holy shitting fuck," a pair of petite, slightly chubby arms had unexpectedly and quite forcefully wrapped their way around Dirk's waist. Citrus hued orbs widened behind shaded glasses fearfully for a moment before he realized just who those arms belonged to. Catching just a glimpse at the unamused look on Ms. Condesce's face just as he wheeled around, Dirk embraced the ebony-haired female tightly, spun her around and gently lowered her to her feet once more. She grinned up at him, her prominent front teeth jutting out in the whimsical and charming way that they would, and he ruffled her short hair with nothing but a subtle smile on his lips. "Well look at you," her pleasant voice danced in the air, "Why didn't you tell me you had this class? I transferred in here because, well, obvious reasons."

"I didn't know you'd be in here girl chill out. What's u- oh, uh," orange eyes flicked to a male figure standing a few feet away. He was a good few inches under Dirk's height, and wow was his hair a disaster: there was no intentionality to the unkempt black spikes which darted in every direction. He wore rectangular, thick-rimmed black glasses and his front teeth jutted past his lips in a similar way that Jane's did. A dark green cardigan hugged his fit torso and buttoned over a plain white shirt. He wore a pair of beige cargo shorts, and his toned legs were as mildly tanned as his face, save for his rosy cheeks.

Just as Roxy said, a dork.

But his eyes...

"Woah man don't hate me or anything but I totally forgot your name," Dirk offered his hand to the awkwardly poised stranger, who beamed at him in a stunning display of askew English teeth and accepted the friendly shake.

His hand was warm.

"English. Jake English," the exchange student claimed in a thick accent. Dirk would have assumed it to be fake if he had not known any better. Charismatic, but something screamed of a bit of an impediment. Either that, or he was trying too hard.

"Bond. James Bond," Dirk mocked as he dropped his hand to his side. Jake grinned at him again and he almost squirmed at the sound of a joyous laugh.

"You got me Mr. Strider," English bashfully confessed, "I'm quite the fan of that particular series. Not quite as much as I would say Indiana Jones, because phew is Indie aces! Some have claimed me to be barmy over the fella, but I dub that a bit brash don't you think?"

"Bro back up some there, call me Dirk okay? No need for formalities, that's kind of lame you know? And second, I speak real English, not charming English accent and way-too-quick words. Slow yourself," Dirk said, his palms out in the sort of manner that screamed to slow down. Jane chuckled, rolling her ice blue eyes.

"He's pretty passionate about his movies, I must say!"

"I see that."

Jake bounced ecstatically in place, obviously energized by the short outburst.

"Anyways, I feel pretty bad about neglecting you yesterday," the stout raven playfully slugged Dirk's shoulder, and he pouted, rubbing it accordingly. "So, what do you say?"

"Definitely. After school?"

"You got i-"

"What's going on after school?" a chipper tone interrupted her. Jake tilted his head curiously, and Dirk was instantaneously reminded of the comparison made the night before of the foreigner and a young dog.

"Starbucks. On me," Jane addressed her new companion with a cheerful grin.

"Does that mean I'm coming as well?"

"She can't really leave you by yourself man. I mean unless if you want to get lost in the middle of a foreign country, then that's your fault, but I don't want to be drowning in your pitiful tears when you're mugged or raped."

"Low blow," Crocker pouted at the blonde, who shrugged and mumbled, 'well it could happen'.

"You're welcome to tag along man," Dirk said after a dramatic sigh in response to Jane's belligerent glare, "But the backseat of my car is a bit cramped. Oh and uh, no shoes on the leather seats. Better start practicing your fetal position now," he clapped for emphasis, "Chop chop."

Jake stared at him quizzically for a moment or two before breaking into another ineffable grin. Making a mental note to address him as 'Smiley' from now on, Dirk fell into his seat with a huff. A pair of ostracizing eyes glared at the back of his head, and he ignored the feeling of daggers in his skull.

Jane sat atop the nearest table and swung her legs back and forth, watching with curious eyes as the individual who she was essentially babysitting strolled over to one of her closest friends and- she winced, hoping that the blonde would not retaliate in a vicious manner- leaned in until their glasses almost touched.

Dirk, his dark brows laced together in bemusement, peered into a set of wide, heavily lashed, sparkling emerald eyes. "Bro, what the hell are you looking at? My pores?"

"A-apologies," Jake stumbled over his words clumsily, "I was simply wondering what exactly your eye color was. It's quite hard to tell with those dapper spectacles, and I didn't want to assume wrongly. Care to let me see?"

"Don't bother Jake," a female voice piped in, "The only reason why I even know what his eyes look like is purely due to an accident. He doesn't show anyone except Roxy."

"Preach it sister," Dirk grumbled. His pale cheeks were still a bit flushed when his personal space was offered back to him, and he was thankful that those fumbling fingers had not snatched away his shades because it would not only show his revolting eyes to a complete stranger, but would also make it quite obvious that he enjoyed that complete stranger being so close to his face. "You wouldn't want to see them anyways. They're ugly. Like, really," his neck craned and, catching Jane in an unexpected snapshot, he adjusted the shades to offer a bit of actualization to his claim.

"I have my doubts about that one. What color are they?" Jake wrung his palms together and took a seat next to Jane, sheepishly examining the Strider from afar.

Dirk's chest heaved, a shuddering breath escaping his lips. He was not exactly comfortable with voicing the color of his uncanny eyes so freely, especially to someone he hardly knew. In fact, it was unheard of for him. There was only three people who ever knew of his eye color, and one of them was, well...

"Can't tell you. It's a secret."

"Bollocks," snapped Jake disappointedly, pouting his lips afterward.

"Sorry man," Dirk said with a shrug. A handful of their classmates had begun to pile in, and seizing his opportunity, he snapped a few photos of the foreigner before the crowd had swallowed him up, demanding he say this cliche phrase or that, and asking question after question. Jane peeked over at the Strider, a bit of a forced smile on her lips though her eyes were generally glad. She slipped him a note, and he unfolded it to be met with curved scribbles in the same color as her eyes. He dug in his bag, retracting an orange marker.

'I'm glad you two are getting along. I was afraid you would reject him, honestly. Haha! Not sure why.'  
'He's alright,' Dirk scrawled on the line underneath, his remarkable penmanship outstanding her own neat letters, 'Definitely a talker though. Is he always so chatty? 'Cause shit, I feel like if I had to spend the entire day with him my ears would fall off. Dorky as fuck too. Roxy warned me, but damn.'

Reaching across the tables, Jane snatched up the folded piece of notebook paper and began to write her response. Jake seemed to notice her doing this and took a mild interest, peering over her shoulder in an attempt to read, but she would move away and he would give up.

While waiting, Dirk fixated his eyes on the gleeful Englishman. There was something about his presence which was warm and inviting, regardless of his talkative attitude. The blonde pursed his lips, concentrating on the exchange student.

For the first time, he really _felt_ his heartbeat.

"Shit," he hissed under his breath, snatching up the note just as the morning bell rang.


	6. Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas everyone! Sorry I haven't updated. I promise there will be one soon! I hope you all are having lovely holidays. I love you all n_n

Also, have a GIF: gifyo./com/JohnTheElf/7065662/ (no slash after the period)

That's my friend. My Dirk. The stunning bby that inspires my fics.


	7. My bad I forgot to like Homestuck still

Hey guys so yea I'm totes sorry but I'm not gonna continue this fic anymore because I don't read Homestuck anymore. Sooo yea. Sorry.


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